


Blank (But Its There)

by mculnlyhrt



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Captain America Steve Rogers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Memory Loss, Mind Control, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, bucky is trying to figure out his memories, can they have a happy ending, fuck hydra, i can't tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mculnlyhrt/pseuds/mculnlyhrt
Summary: In which the Winter Soldier struggles to reach the memories locked away and finds his way out with one name - Steve Rogers.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Blank (But Its There)

It was like he was falling. Faces flew by, faces from memories long gone. Memories he didn't know he had. Names that had no meaning rocketed through his brain as if they were supposed to be there. Pictures and colors and sounds appeared from nowhere, laughing, smiling, bright. 

Were they supposed to be there?

It was all so wrong, so again what he knew. So against what he had known his entire life. His entire life? No. Most of his life. No, all of his life. He was nothing before HYDRA. He was HYDRA. But was there something before? There were faces, there were memories, it couldn't be all he knew. But it had to be all he knew. HYDRA was all he knew. 

One face stuck out among the thousands that seemed to pass. Sandy blonde hair. Blue eyes. The smile. Oh, that smile. So familiar and yet so far away. Did he know him? He knew him. How? Where? Why? When?

"Until the end of the line, pal."

"I'm not riding on the cyclone, Buck!"

"I had them on the line."

"I know you did."

Why was this man so familiar? Where were these words, these phrases coming from? He hadn't thought of these things in years. He wasn't supposed to think of these things. This was wrong. It was all so wrong. But if it was so wrong, why was it so familiar? 

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

"How can I? You're taking all of the stupid with you."

He knew this man. He knew him well. The familiarity was overwhelming. But where? Why? Where was the connection of his name? Where were the connections? Why did it matter, why now? Was it a previous handler? Another member of HYDRA? A friend?

But what was a friend? There were no friends in HYDRA. He was no one. He was the Asset. He was not a person, and not-people didn't deserve friends. He was no one. But if he was no one, why was he feeling these things? He wasn't supposed to feel things. It was against protocol. It wasn't right. He was broken. If they knew, they would try to fix him. He needed to be fixed. It was a mistake, but an easy fix. 

"The man on the bridge. Who was he?"

He had met the man in a previous mission. That was it. That was all it was. That was all it ever was. But where were these memories? Why were they in his head? It wasn't just another mission. It couldn't be just another mission. There was too much... was that an emotion he felt? He couldn't be feeling emotions. It was wrong. He was an assassin. He shouldn't be feeling emotions. He wasn't a person. Not-people didn't feel. Not-people didn't know anything. 

"I knew him."

No, no, he didn't know him. He wasn't allowed to know him. It was just another mission. There was no other meaning to the memories. There were no other meanings to the memories. But there was. He didn't understand. What was going on? Why couldn't he understand?

For once, he longed for the blank slate of his mind, to clear everything away. This hurt too much. He didn't want to remember if it was going to hurt like that.

But that man, that man. He knew him! He felt something for him! The name was on the tip of his tongue. The connection.

"Wipe him."

Pain. Pain. All there was now was pain. His head hurt. His arms, his legs, his chest. Everything ached. He tried to scream but he wasn't sure if any sound came out. Why wasn't he saving him? But who wasn't saving him? Someone was supposed to save him. Someone had died trying to save him.

It hurts!

Everything was on fire. His chest was burning. He couldn't breathe. His arms, his legs, his head. Aching, overwhelming pain.

And then it was gone. Everything was gone. It was blank once more. There was nothing. He felt nothing. He was nothing. 

But then, there was color again. He was falling again. It hurt so much more than it did before. He didn't want to hurt. Why did everything have to hurt?

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You are my friend."

The man. He was dead. They told him he was dead.

He didn't know this man.

He knew this man! Memories cascaded through his head. He knew this man. He knew this man. He knew this man. Where had he come from? Wasn't he dead? He was dead. They told him he was dead. He was dead!

"You're my mission! My mission!"

He was from another mission. The recognition was only from another mission. This man was his new mission. He had to kill him. This man had to die.

But wasn't he already dead? He was supposed to be dead? Why did he have to kill a man that was already dead? Why was he supposed to kill a man he knew?

He's my mission. He's my mission. He's my mission.

The man had to die. There was no other option. It didn't matter if he knew this man or not. The man had to die. He didn't know this man. He knew this man! Where was this man from? How did he know him? He had to die. It was his mission. If he didn't complete his mission... he didn't know what would happen. He had never failed to complete a mission. He had to complete his mission. 

"Then finish it. Because I'm with you until the end of the line."

Steve.

The name came tumbling back through all of the memories. The memories of the sandy haired blond boy fighting bullies and having to save the kid. The memories of living together in a small Brooklyn apartment in the 1940s, surviving off of boiled potatoes and soup. The memories of war, of being rescued by the man in an American suit. The memories of falling, falling, far out of reach of the man who cared.

Steve.

A friend. No, not a friend. Best friend. More than that. So much more than that. 

And now he was laying there, blood covering his face. The face he had promised to protect. The man he had stuck up for for years, defended, protected. Hurt by his hand.

He was falling. Steve was. Down towards the river below. He was going to die. Wasn't that a good thing? That was his mission. Kill Captain America. Kill Steve Rogers. That was his mission, and his mission must be completed. They would ask for a mission report, and he would tell them it was finished. 

No. That was never his mission. That couldn't be his mission. He could never kill his best friend. He wasn't allowed to kill his best friend. He was supposed to protect Steve Rogers, not kill him.

Steve was going to die. No, no, no. No. Steve couldn't die. He wasn't supposed to die. He had already neared death too many times. He couldn't die. I can't live in a world without Steve Rogers. Even if he barely knew himself, there was no life without the other man. 

The water was cold and dark, full of memories of ice and pain and fear, but there was no more hesitation. Steve needed to live. There was no world worth living in without Steve Rogers.


End file.
